


Trinity

by Anonymous



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Consensual Somnophilia, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Parent/Child Incest, Uninformed Consent, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-24 01:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Varian snuck into Anduin's room every night to touch his dragon boyfriend. One night he got more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Varian Wrynn, Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn/Varian Wrynn, Wrathion/Varian Wrynn
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: Anonymous





	Trinity

King Varian Wrynn had a habit he struggled to shake. At night, while the rest of the Keep slept peacefully, he often found himself pacing the corridors, looking for something to draw his mind from his troubles. He paced the stairs, looked out the windows, lingered at the threshold of the library. 

In fact, he had been furiously beating a path down the hall past Anduin’s room the very night he first begun his affair with Wrathion.

The dragon hadn’t consented: not the first time, at least. Sound asleep on a near edge of Anduin’s bed with his lower body exposed, however, he had stirred the king in ways Varian hadn’t imagined he would. There was something about the delicate curve of his waist, and his slender frame reminded the king of another, sleeping barely two feet away. 

He had imagined Anduin bent over for this dragon, whimpering and clutching the pillow, and he wanted it. He wanted it all for himself, on levels he refused to acknowledge even lingering in the shadows. He had crept closer, trailing the tip of his finger down Wrathion’s spine. The dragon had shuddered, and beside him, Anduin had murmured in his sleep. That was how it was meant to be—the middle ground on which Varian resolved to stand. The line in the sand he promised himself he would never cross. 

It hadn’t taken long for Wrathion to realize what was happening to him under the cover of night. One morning over breakfast he had regarded Varian with a look that seemed to burn him down to his core, and then a smirk that communicated what a thousand words likely could not have. After that, he caught Wrathion making a show in his presence: smirking and sucking the cream from his spoon in unabashed suggestion. 

Varian suspected Wrathion chalked it all up to a burning desire for him, a fascination with him and his every flamboyant, suggestive gestures. The king wasn’t about to correct him. The dragon prince let him slide his fingers between his cheeks and prod at his hole in the darkness, and said nothing when Varian bit down on the tip of his ear and hissed ‘son’ under his breath. He even caught Wrathion pouring Anduin an extra glass of wine on nights when he knew Varian would be making his rounds.

That was enough for the king. Enough to put up with the smirks, the lewd looks, the blatant disregard for the Keep and its resources that Anduin would never have thought to demand were he the recipient of Varian’s ministrations. It made him grit his teeth, but the alternative made his heart sink. He would give into the dragon’s performance if it meant sparing what little relationship he had with Anduin from the tension and shame that plagued Varian himself.

He would draw his lips in a line and watch dragon and prince kiss in the stairwells when they thought no one was watching. He would lie awake with his hand clutched around his cock as he listened to Anduin whimpers and moans through the walls, and he would steel himself knowing that as soon as they settled, he could creep downstairs and rub his cock between Wrathion’s sleep-parted lips while he imagined his son’s perfect pink tongue flicking out to greet him.

Tonight was supposed to be a night like all the others. 

Around ten, the boys finished a game of chess in the library and departed for Anduin’s chamber. By the time Varian put aside his paperwork and drew a bath in his quarters he could hear his son’s bed squeaking and the faint cry of the dragon’s name through the wall. Varian gave himself a few lazy strokes, then rose from the water. Tucking his shaft away, he waited for the midnight bell, and then he slipped out of his unguarded door and down the hall, to another door he knew he would find unlocked.

He turned the handle, then eased it open. The room was pitch black save for a tiny sliver of moonlight striping the floor near the opposite wall.

Varian took the first few steps lightly, only quickening his pace when his bare feet met the carpet under the prince’s bed and he was certain the sound would be muffled. Reaching out and finding the corner of Anduin’s silk bedspread, he folded it up, then slid a hand under it until he found the smooth skin of a slender waist. His other hand adjusted his cock in his pants, and with that, he let his mind take control.

Trailing his fingers along the line of the hip beneath them, he imagined digging his nails into it, flipping the boy, and thrusting into him with a single jerk that would certainly rip him from his sleep. He never allowed himself that bold a movement, but oh, did he love to think about how he would clench around him and cry out into the pillow. Sadly, for now he knew he would have to content himself with dipping his hand down to spread boy’s cheeks and pretending, at least until he decided it safe to move.

He trailed his fingers through the soft dusting of hair he found there—softer than he recalled, but he didn’t dwell on it—before finding his hole and nudging gently against it. When he breathed in, he caught the familiar scent of his son, and it left his mouth feeling wetter than usual. He licked his lips, then licked the tip of his finger before returning it to the boy’s hole. It only took a nudge or two for it to sink in, and when it did, the recipient stirred and murmured something in his sleep.

Varian paid it little mind. Instead, he wrapped his other hand gently around the boy’s waist and used his palm for leverage to thrust the digit in deeper. This earned another whimper, all but lost into a pillow somewhere at the head of the bed.

Feeling emboldened, Varian eased a knee up onto the bed. The mattress creaked, but neither sleeping body so much lifted a head in acknowledgement. After a few moments of stillness, Varian decided all was safe, and he thrust his finger in again, savoring the heat around him and the tightness of the boy’s hole as it slid down past the second knuckle.

For a moment, Varian couldn’t help but imagine the dragon clenching like this around his son. Maybe if he pressed in deep enough, he would find the remnants of the night’s earlier activities: the vestiges of Anduin’s cum waiting to be smeared along his inner wall and drawn out to leak down the inside of his leg. It wouldn’t be the first time Varian had found such a surprise, and the memory of its texture and smell still made his cock ache with need. 

Again, the king adjusted himself, and again, he kept the image of Anduin thrusting and whimpering in the forefront of his mind. He wondered how deeply the prince might blush, and how he might shudder in the throes of his orgasm. It was forbidden knowledge that Varian would never access, but touching Wrathion seemed to unlock the images: the fantasies Varian returned to every time he desperately pumped his cock between Wrathion’s legs.

Unable to stand the strain of his pants any longer, Varian reached down with his free hand and undid the lacings, letting his cock spring free. Once he felt the cool rush of air against his heated skin, he knew he needed some kind of friction lest he lose his mind. He removed his fingers from the sleeping boy’s hole and instead slid his shaft into the space between his thighs, as he had done so many times before. 

Moving to lay beside him, he rocked forward. For a moment, all he knew was the tightness of what he thought to be Wrathion’s thighs around his shaft. But then, just as he fought down a gasp, he bowed his head forward and expected to land in a thick tousle of curls spread out on the pillow.

Instead, the tip of his nose brushed against something very different: silky and straight, about shoulder length, and smelling distinctly of the lemon soap Varian knew his son favored.

The king’s heart stopped. Blood rushed from his cheeks, but even as nausea crashed over him, he found the flush that had been on his face now pooling and swelling in his own throbbing cock. The cock he had pressed between his son’s legs. The cock that was nudging against his son’s soft sac and sliding between the gentle swell of his cheeks.

Varian didn’t know what to do. His limbs felt suddenly heavy, and his hand resting against the boy’s—against _Anduin’s_ , he mentally corrected—lower abdomen refused to move. He stared wide-eyed into the shadows, and then two slivers of crimson light blinked to life in front of him. The dragon’s eyes opened, then widened as his glow spilled out across the bed and onto Anduin’s sleeping face.

There was no room to doubt any longer who Varian had his arm wrapped around and into whose thighs he had thrust so eagerly moments before.

For a moment, Wrathion, too, did nothing. It seemed for once in his short life he was stricken to silence, and frankly, Varian welcomed it. He couldn’t bear even considering the alternative, what might happen if Wrathion were to murmur some kind of tease or reach over and shake the prince from his sleep. 

Yet no matter how many times Varian has scorned the black dragon’s behavior, it seemed their mutual understanding about what happened in the shadows still held true. Varian was grateful for that, at least. He managed a nod, and Wrathion, in turn, cracked the beginnings of a smirk. The king caught the flicking of sharp teeth between his parted lips. The notion that Wrathion might be mocking him started to rise in Varian’s mind, but Varian cast it aside, knowing that he had bigger things to worry about than a battle of wills with a black dragon whelp.

His cock, for instance, as it leaked against the inside of Anduin’s leg, and the murmur that escaped the prince when he rocked back against Varian’s own bare chest.

“Wrathion…” A soft voice cooed, breaking their silence. At the sound of his name, the dragon’s cat-like pupils grew, and his gaze darted down to Anduin’s face. Varian caught the whelp biting his lower lip, and he could almost feel the breath Wrathion was holding while he tried to assess what state of waking his boyfriend was in.

When Wrathion looked back up at Varian, his eyes were slightly wider than before. His smile had drooped a bit at the edges, and he looked conflicted, though not nearly as conflicted as Varian himself felt with the blood still drained from his cheeks and his cock aching between Anduin’s slender thighs. 

Anduin murmured again, this time curling his arm up under his pillow and squirming back into Varian’s arms, and whatever uncertainty Wrathion, at least, had been feeling seemed to shift to something different. His smile returned, and he propped up his head in one hand to study them, gaze moving from Anduin, to Varian, then back to Anduin.

It unnerved the king, but he neither scowled nor snapped. He couldn’t risk the quip Wrathion might shoot back at him, not when he was still in such a compromising position. Cursing himself for ever thinking this was a good idea in the first place, for yielding to his basest urges when he could have just _relieved himself in his own room like the respectable man he was meant to be,_ Varian turned and looked back towards the door. Perhaps there was still time to escape. He started to plan it: how he could ease his way out, turn, readjust himself before Anduin opened his eyes.

Tuck himself in his pants and disappear back into the night. Oh, Light, how he hated the thought.

Whether Wrathion knew what he was deliberating or not was unclear, but even so, the dragon, it seemed, saw fit to make up his mind for him. Reaching across the mattress, he cupped his hand to Anduin’s cheek. Varian’s chest tightened. His jaw went slack, and he stared in abject horror as Wrathion traced the tip of his nail across the line of Anduin’s cheekbone.

“Shh,” he whispered. Varian held his breath. “Shh, just lay still.”

Anduin must have blinked open his eyes because Varian caught what he thought to be a look exchanged between them. With his nose pressed into Anduin’s hair and all his energy focused on not breathing, not moving until he was certain Anduin was back to unconscious, however, it was difficult for him to read it. 

He didn’t need to dwell on it for long, though. The next words he felt his son murmur answered any questions, and apprehensions, and doubts he might have had. The young prince turned slightly in his arms and gasped out a ragged: “Father.”

With that, Wrathion leaned in and kissed the other boy gently on the lips. 

Varian watched them, expecting…something more than that. A protest, a question. But none of that came. They just kissed, and Wrathion slipped his hand up into Anduin’s hair before reaching over and toying with the stray hairs of Varian’s bangs. They parted, and Wrathion returned to his own pillow. This time the meaning behind his smirk and the way he propped up his head was quite clear. He wanted to watch, and Anduin…? 

Anduin let out the tiniest of sighs, sliding his hand back under his pillow until he found Varian’s fingers and rested the palm of his hand lightly atop it. 

The gesture—so gentle, but so resolved, just like the son he had watched in silence and imagined all those nights he crawled into this bed—was enough to make Varian’s cock, nearly forgotten in his shame, twitch back to life. Anduin must have felt it, because he squeezed his thighs together and murmured his soft approval. 

With some hesitation, Varian finally let himself rock his hips. He splayed his leg over Anduin’s and pressed the palm of his hand against his lower belly. He thrusted, and shuddered, and watched as Wrathion reached back across the distance and took Anduin’s hands in his own. 

It was almost too much for the king. With a growl, he pressed his face into Anduin’s hair and gave in to the tightness of Anduin’s legs and the tremble of his small body curled up against Varian’s own. 

All the years of longing were unleashed. Not needing to stay quiet anymore, Varian groaned Anduin’s name against the shell of his ear. He clutched at his lower abdomen, far bolder and more desperate than he had ever found himself clutching on Wrathion. Rather than looking jealous about this, the dragon watched with a smile, and soon he released his grip on Anduin’s hands to plunge them into the front of his sleep pants. As he jerked at his own arousal, he made no reservations about how much he was enjoying what he saw.

This only seemed to encourage Anduin, who, in turn, encouraged Varian. In a small voice far too sweet for the lewd words it uttered, the prince whispered just loud enough for the two of them to hear, “Father, please. Please fuck me.”

Varian’s eyes flew open. His grip tightened, and every fantasy he had tried to suppress came to a head and manifested as an animalistic growl on his lips. Every reservation dashed, every thought to duty and shame forgotten, he squirmed his other hand down between them, wrapped it around the base of his cock and nudged at the young prince’s hole. 

Even after stretching him while he slept, he could barely get in more than his head, but Anduin was tight, so tight, and he reveled in it. He felt the boy quiver and clutch at the mattress. The way he clenched around him and whimpered out his encouragement—he worried, but it felt so right. 

Varian rocked his hips, and across for them, Wrathion moaned, loud and unabashed. Anduin, it seemed, had reached down to try to help relieve his boyfriend, but even that gesture could hardly stir Varian’s focus.

He was too busy being consumed by the heat of his son’s body, by the softness of his hair and the way he gently arched his back into Varian’s shallow thrusts. Their legs tangled together, and with a tremble that seemed to pass from Anduin’s shoulders to the tips of Varian’s toes, father and son became one.


End file.
